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11.06.2016

unrequited love poem.

My junior year of college my roommate moved out over Christmas break. It's a long complicated story but suffice it to say I found myself alone in a two bedroom apartment. I didn't even have furniture in the living room since all of the furniture had been my former roommate's and I didn't exactly have money for my own.

It was lonely. So so lonely.

To ease the loneliness, I wanted to get a pet.

But there in lay another problem. I didn't have the money for a dog and I'm super allergic to cats.

So instead I decided I would get a guinea pig. One of my best friends had one and I loved him.

Off to the local Petsmart I went, in search of a guinea pig companion.

But then I got to the store.

And I saw the parakeets.

They were so colorful and cute. They were chattering and pinging around the cage and I had to have one. Had to had to had to.

I've always loved birds. I can't really say why but I have.

Flash forward an hour and I was walking out of the store as the proud owner of two parakeets.

The first week was rough. My new feathered friends were quiet when they were supposed to be noisy. Mostly we just stared at each other, me with my face close the cage waiting for them to do something and them just blinking on their perch.

With the help of my family, we decided on names; Frick & Frack.

Sadly six months later I lost Frick. So I selected a replacement.

Who Frack promptly attempted to murder.

Multiple times.

I took the new bird back to Petsmart and went to another store because I was too embarrassed to purchase another bird at Petsmart in case I had to return that one too.

My sister and I found an adorable little yellow bird. She almost didn't look like she was a parakeet because she was all yellow with a green spot in the middle of her back. She didn't have the cute little cheek pattern or wing pattern that most parakeets have. We loved her.

Thankfully Frack did too. Frack and Frieda became fast friends.

Several years I go lost Frieda.

I suspect Frack had something to do with it.

This time I decided Frack would be a bachelor. There would be no new feathered friend for him.

And quite frankly he seems a lot happier.

There's just one small problem.

He doesn't seem to like me that much.

I love him. He's been this faithful little constant in my life since February 2007. He's listened to me talk through a dark period in college. He's listened to me practice my oral arguments during my 1L year. He's listened to my work phone calls when I worked from home.

Okay maybe listened is too strong a word. He mostly continues his bird business while I talk at him. Worse was when he would chirp loudly over me while I tried to talk to him.

All I've wanted is for this little green creature to love me.

Goodness only knows why. He's most likely viciously murdered his two previous companions. He frequently gets himself wedged in weird places in his cage. Sometimes he just falls off his perch for absolutely no reason. No seriously--he'll just plummet to the floor of the cage out of the blue. It's not a jump down either, it's an accidental fall. He never really figured out the mechanics of flight which is weird because he's, you know, a bird. I've given him plenty of opportunity to master it. There are also times where he just screams bloody murder for absolutely no reason. He'll have a full food bowl, a full clean water bowl, and a clean cage. And yet he'll scream like the world is ending anyways. He also just stares at me without moving for uncomfortably long periods of time.

He's a special little bird but he's my special little bird and I want him to love me.

I guess in his own weird way he does. He sings happily if I spend enough time in the same room as me. He also eats a lot more when I'm in the room.

Yet he won't let me touch him and he otherwise seems indifferent to me.

And at this point, I don't think that's ever going to change.

Your average parakeet has a lifespan of 10-12 years. And Frack is at least 10 years old. I've had him almost 9 years. At one year, parakeets do this unique molt for their first real molt. And in all of these years I have never seen him do that particular molt. Ergo, he was at least one year old when I got him.

I don't know how many more years we have together. A part of me is okay with that. He is rather messy.

But a much greater part of me will miss him and his noisy self. He's brought color and movement and noise and joy to my life for years now.

Currently he's perched on top of his water bowl, hunched down, and staring at me.